


Blue Light Blues

by 00Geeky00_00Goggles00



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), I Tried, M/M, Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Prostitution, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), They Both Try So Hard, he tries, humanbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00Geeky00_00Goggles00/pseuds/00Geeky00_00Goggles00
Summary: Angel always has the worst time at work during the romantic season. Alastor doesn't like all the fuss either, but he does like making Angel's day better.(Made for the Radiodust server Valentine exchange. Hope you like it, Valentine! ^_^)
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), RadioDust
Comments: 3
Kudos: 158





	Blue Light Blues

Alastor was never much one for the saucier parts of town. He was quite content to stick to the drug slums and far less…  _ touchy  _ back alleys, thank you very much. He didn’t sniff at the work being done, it was simply not to his taste. However, he squared his shoulders and adjusted the case in his grip and the backpack on his back. The mocha skinned man attempted to take a deep breath, but regretted it as the smell of smoke, vomit, and sex hit his nose. Oh well. Disgusting as it was he could take it for now. This was important.

Angel had been dreading Valentine’s day for weeks now. Alastor didn’t blame him. This was often the time many truly lonely, sad, or desperate people would come to call. They weren't so bad and they usually paid well. The problem comers were the ones who had finally been left due to being some form of arse or another, or the ones who’d never gotten anybody because of their behavior in the first place. Angel, unfortunately, had far more assholes than not. Many went so far as to leave other workers bleeding badly enough that Angel had to take them instead. It mostly happened with the younger or newer prostitutes. He refused to complain about them. He’d say it was because of the money. His boyfriend knew better.

Alastor had been saving up for months just for today. The brown-haired man may not have supported Valentine’s Day (the corporate farce that it was), but he certainly did support his beloved. He waited until anything that sounded remotely like moaning stopped, then stepped fully under the dingey blue lights. He watched haughty Johns stagger away, and made sure that his old “friend” Husker was posted at the alley entrance to stop any more wayward souls from wandering in. He tried his best to ignore the appraising leers sent his way by some of the workers, and continued into the alley until he came to a small space between the buildings. A grimy vanity was shoved against one wall, containing a cracked mirror ringed by dark blue lights and an exorbitant amount of makeup. Angel sat heavily at the vanity resting and applying a fresh palette to start the night.

Alastor set down his packs and just stood and watched his beau for a moment. The blue bounced ethereally off Angel’s bi-colored hair and pale skin. He was dressed quite nicely considering the place he was in. A thick pastel pink boa sat around his shoulders. His legs were crossed elegantly to conserve some heat, the stockings helping by being thigh highs and innocently knit instead of sheer. Winters weren’t particularly cold here, but there was certainly a chill in the air. Thus, his dress was made out of a soft flannel material, dusty pink pleats ending just above his mid-thigh. The radio host watched with a genuine smile as his boyfriend chuckled at his own focused expression in the mirror. Once the prostitute noticed that, he also noticed a familiar grin glinting at him from the alley.

“Al!” the effeminate man gasped. He hurried over to the blithe murderer and engulfed him in a hug. He felt Alastor freeze for a second before assuring him “Nah, I ain’t touched no Johns yet tonight, too early.” Whipcord muscled arms slowly placed themselves around Angel’s waist.

“Happy t’see you too, cher.” Alastor chuckled quietly. “Ya got a minute?”

Angel sighed at the question and sagged against his beau.

“Tch, I wish. Buncha lonely fuckers make for some good money on Valentines. Even us street shits have bosses to please. Sorry Smiles, but unless ya got a few thou in that case, I’m booked for tonight.” His voice became quieter and quieter, watching the other three workers look at their embrace with both pity and jealousy. He pulled away and was about to turn back when a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Angel my darling, you should know me better than that!” Alastor exclaimed in his transatlantic accent. “I don’t come to do business unprepared.” He reached down and rifled through his pack. The taller man raised an eyebrow at that. Both eyebrows then shot up to his hairline when he was shown several thousand dollars and a few dime bags hidden in the brunette’s bag beneath a pile of blankets. Angel looked at his significant other, mouth agape. Alastor just chuckled.

“Yes, my dear, this was a while in the making. You speak of this season with such dread, and I don’t blame you! I figured that a fitting night would be to give you and some friends a night off. Observing what you take home to assist with our rent, this should be sufficient even for a busy night for you and your compatriots. Is that correct?”

Angel’s eyes were still wide with shock.

“Yeah… yeah it is… Al where did you… you didn’t have to…” Angel stumbled over his words. Alastor waved away his concerns with a flick of the wrist.

“Simply think of it as the benefits of assisting a quite well known radio star with his shows… and dinner.” Alastor threw a wink. Pale skin flushed as his lovely beau chuckled.

“You know how to throw some... life into a dish, Smiles.” He quipped, seemingly snapped out of his mild fit of shock. “Thanks babe. I fuckin’ love it. So let’s go and-...”

“Oh, well we may go if you wish but that may make the rest of the surprise rather moot.”

“W-... what?” Back into catatonia Angel went. Alastor held up a finger and began to work.

The brunette pulled a tarp out of his bag, spread it across the grimy ground, pulled out a large picnic blanket, and set it atop the tarp. Angel reacted automatically as a blanket was wrapped around him hugging it closer. Alastor began to hum as he worked, handing out blankets and clearing makeup off the vanity’s tabletop and into its front drawer. He set about pulling more wonderful things out of his pack. A large thermos, marshmallows, and cups were set out on the table, and finally a collapsable stool before the pack was left empty of anything besides the money and drugs.

Alastor, continuing to be nonplussed yet unbothered by the stares he was receiving, picked up the case and perched on the collapsable stool. The case, when opened, contained a clarinet which the brunette began to assemble. Right when he was about to play, ten minutes had passed, he fully acknowledged his slack-jawed audience.

“Well?” He questioned, gesturing to the setup. “I can’t very well use all this myself! Enjoy!”

Alastor began to play. After a few seconds and a confirming nod from Angel, the other workers pounced on the thermos (containing hot chocolate) and the chance to sit and listen to the performance. What a performance it was, too. Angel was floored. He’d heard Al play before, but not quite like this. This felt deeper somehow. The sound was smooth and sweet, musicians' fingers pressing precisely on every note played. He pulled the bench from the vanity over to sit behind his beau, wrapping his arms around the suit-clad gentleman. He simply absorbed the vibrations from the instrument, feeling them ring through Alastor’s rhythmically rising and falling lungs. He was still processing.

One of the others began to sing along while two more danced. Finally, as Angel was reminded of the lyrics to this tune, he gasped softly. One hand came up to cover his mouth while the other gripped tighter into Alastor’s waistcoat. The now-faraway voice continued to sing…

_ A tinkling piano in the next apartment _

_ Those stumbling words that told you _

_ What my heart meant _

_ A fairground's painted swings _

_ These foolish things _

_ Remind me of you _

_ You came, you saw, you conquered me _

_ When you did that to me _

_ I somehow knew that this had to be _

A distinct flush crept it’s way up the performer’s neck.. He glanced back at Angel who was staring at him with a lovestruck glint in his bright brown eyes.The radio host continued to play. At some point, a light headbutt and a wobbly giggle placed themselves somewhere on his shoulder. The reason was for the lyrics now being teasingly crooned in their direction.

_ The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations _

_ Silk stockings thrown aside, dance invitations _

_ Oh, how the ghost of you clings _

_ These foolish things _

_ Remind me of you _

Soon the song ended with Alastor receiving as raucous an applause as three people can make. Said people began milling about and chatting amongst themselves, giving the lovers a moment of solace. Finally, without the vibratto of the instrument, Alastor felt Angel shaking slightly against his back. He was now somewhat concerned. He reached up and guided Angel’s head off of his shoulder with a sweet caress. Reluctantly, the man of the night lifted his head, revealing that he had been crying a bit. The bi-colored brunette and blonde thanked his lucky stars Alastor had shown up before he put on mascara. 

“Al… I knew I was fuckin’ fabulous... “ he began, trying for false bravado and failing miserably. “... but this isn’t… I’m just kind of around you. I don’t got shit ta offer you ‘sides a little money and some company… I-...”

“What makes ya think that th’company ain’t worth it t’me, cher?”

Angel stopped dead in his tracks at that quiet statement. Alastor turned around to hold Angel’s hands, sitting even closer and speaking gently.

“Mon ange, I don’ think you know whatcu saved me from. I’d been plannin’ to die alone sha. Alone n’ real young. Ain’t nobody willin’ to put up with someone who won’ put out, let alone go ‘long with my huntin’ sessions. Fer bein’ real impatient for alotta life, you’re real damn patient when it comes ta me.”

“I just don’t wanna fuck up the things I care about by bein’ an impatient shit. You’re one o’ the only guys on this planet who doesn’t care for the mafia, and won’t expect me ta take work home with me, if ya catch my drift.”

Alastor blinked at that information. It wasn’t new. Angel had shown him all of those things though they way he acted, cleaning up, communicating, and learning how to cook with local exotic meats (even if he didn’t eat it most nights). But to hear it said aloud? It was… nice. He hesitated on instinct before bringing a hand up to gingerly cup Angel’s cheek.

“So what I’m hearin’ is…” he leaned closer. So did his beau. “I love you f’ you…” closer “...an’ you love me f’me...” just a little closer “Is that right, cher?” He stopped, now just barely separated.. Mocha lips quirked in a playful challenge, waiting for a response. Angel had to respond after such a graceful attempt at romanticism. Now, Angel might have been a prostitute, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t damn good at romance as well. A smirk slowly settled on Angel’s face. He looked his beloved dead in the eye and spoke.

“You were pretty damn spot on, except for one thing…” he stopped to chuckle at Alastor’s confused head tilt. “You just forgot a little detail. Lemme tell you…” he gestured the brunette closer so he could whisper in his ear. The other man raised an eyebrow, but he did as directed. Angel simply smiled and said sweetly, “You don’t have to guess at me loving you, Dollface. I can just tell you.” Angel pulled back and squeezed his beau’s hands.

“I love you Alastor.”

“I love you too, my Angel.”

The kiss was extremely gentle, just the barest touch of lips on lips that had far more feeling than any heavy makeout session Angel had ever had. He felt himself beginning to tear up again when Alastor started gently passing a thumb over his cheek. He drew himself closer to the other man, if only to get closer to the physical and emotional warmth radiating from the touch.

Both of their eyes snapped open and they flew apart as a wolf-whistle cut through the moment. Angel flipped off his fellow workers, which set them off into a flurry of cackling. Despite the interruption, the softness didn’t leave either of their eyes. Angel sighed happily.

“Whaddaya say, Smiles? One more tune for the road and we turn in?”

“Hmmm…” he hummed, stroking his chin in thought. “I suppose one more couldn’t hurt!” He exclaimed, radio accent back as he spoke loud enough for others to hear. “‘Specially if yer part o’ the audience, mon ange.” he stated matter-of-factly, and low enough for only Angel to hear. The taller male settled himself back into the listening position he had before as Alastor once again began to play.

One more may have turned into three more, but there was nowhere that Angel would rather be than cuddled up to his boyfriend while he improvised some blue-light blues.

**Author's Note:**

> I have other fics I'm supposed to be writing, I know, but c'moooooooon guuuuuuys. This is a Valentiiiiiiiiiiiine. 
> 
> Do you want to participate in events like that? You do? Then join the RadioDust discord. We're a lovely bunch of bananas. ^_^


End file.
